


Don't Look Down

by zahnie



Category: Leverage, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Contracts, Crossover, Decapitation, Demon Deals, Demon Death, Episode: s05e15 The Long Goodbye Job, Episode: s13e08 The Scorpion and the Frog, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Healing, Hugs, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Multi, Resurrection, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Survivor Guilt, Temporary Character Death, Theft, can you believe I forgot to tag for these??, it's just that cas isn't here cause he's busy being a prisoner in hell rn, please know this is destiel in my soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28083075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahnie/pseuds/zahnie
Summary: Parker makes a demon deal to bring Eliot and Hardison back from the dead. As a direct result, she has to go on a heist with the Winchesters.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 8
Kudos: 44





	Don't Look Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenmonstermash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmonstermash/gifts).



> What's the opposite of a fix-it because that's this fic :D The fabricated events of Leverage 5.15 The Long Goodbye Job are true here and the rest of the setting is more or less Supernatural 13.08 The Scorpion and the Frog, except obvs it's Parker's POV throughout. She slips right into Alice's spot with hardly a ripple, just like she did in my brain when I first saw the episode months ago!
> 
> Thank you so much to my dear friends for reading this while it was in progress, especially greenmonstermash (who read it ALL before posting, amazing work), takiki16 (who kindly hasn't mentioned that I took months longer than expected, you are a saint) and Laura (who is a champion of character voices and read bits of this out loud to me! I miss seeing your face irl <3)
> 
> Title from Echoes of You by Marianas Trench. [Full playlist here.](https://zahnie.tumblr.com/post/633566818340159488/dont-look-down-playlist)

Parker drags Eliot into the van somehow. She yanks the back doors shut with the last of her strength before the cop shoots again. Her shoulder feels like it's on fire.

The van lurches as Nate peels away from the building. Hardison and Eliot slide further into the van. Parker collapses against the side wall, staring at them. Hardison cries out faintly. There's blood bubbling up at Eliot's lips.

They grab each other's hands, both flat on their backs on the floor. “Here I am,” Eliot gasps. Every breath is slower. Time itself is slowing down.

Her heart is hammering with fear. She can hear her pulse in her ears. Hardison breathes out a laugh at something Eliot said. Tears trickle out of Parker's eyes. This is all her fault.

Parker takes Eliot's hand, pulling it against her stomach. He tries to close his fingers around hers. Then, his hand goes slack. She can't hear him breathing. Beside Eliot, Hardison is still, his eyes open.

Dead. They're both dead.

Parker sighs out a long exhale. She closes her eyes on more tears and waits. But she keeps breathing. Crying jostles her shoulder, which keeps burning. How could she live through this?

The van stops after a long time. Parker opens her eyes. Nate and Sophie are looking back at her, their faces ashen.

Sophie cries out as Parker blinks. “Oh! Parker!” Her head disappears and Parker hears her door open.

Nate stays frozen, staring at them.

A few seconds later, Sophie pulls the back doors open. She staggers in, clumsy with urgency. “Parker!” she calls, like Parker is far away. Maybe she is. The tears have stopped.

Sophie's hand pushes cotton gauze at Parker's gunshot wound. It _hurts_. She flinches. “Hold that there,” Sophie says, her arm across Parker's torso like half a hug. The hand not holding Eliot's is numb. Parker doesn't try to move it.

“Nate, I need you back here!” Sophie's voice has more than a little panic in it. Parker closes her eyes again.

Between the two of them, Nate and Sophie cut away half of Parker's blood-soaked shirt while trying to keep pressure on the wound at the same time. They pull her sideways to give themselves room to work. Gently, Nate tries to uncurl Parker's fingers, talking about taking her into the safe house, but she won't let go of Eliot.

Parker stops processing what they're saying. The words blur into noise. Pain and dizziness swirl around her. Time stands still again.

Eliot's hand is cold in hers. Parker holds on to it anyway.

Finally, Sophie's voice gets through to her. “Parker, let go. We need to get you inside.”

No. She isn't sure if she says it or not. She tightens her grip.

“Dammit, Parker!”

Parker's head jerks. Her eyes fly open.

Nate's leaning right over her. “We can't lose you too!” Tears stand in his eyes but he's angry now.

Parker's anger doesn't rise to meet his. She's numb. She lets go of Eliot's hand.

Between them, Sophie and Nate walk Parker into the safe house. It's strange to do this with them. She tries to look back at the van.

“I know, I know,” Sophie keeps saying softly. But she doesn't.

They dump Parker in an armchair in the living room, facing the front door. Sophie gets her the rest of the way out of her shirt, leaving her sports bra alone even though it has blood on it too. Nate tucks a blanket around her. They give her pills she swallows without questioning them.

Parker keeps her eyes on the door, waiting.

“The bullet went right through,” Nate says, crouching down in front of her, breaking her concentration. “But you lost a lot of blood.”

Sophie pushes a glass of orange juice into Parker's hand. She stares at it.

“It'll help with—oh,” Sophie says, her voice wobbling dangerously on the last word.

They all stare at the orange juice, remembering the mock fight Hardison and Eliot had about it yesterday. Eliot likes juice with pulp and was annoyed at the kind Hardison ordered. Liked.

Slowly, Parker drinks the juice. The whole world is full of pitfalls like this now. If you don't look down, you can make it across.

Nate stands up, glancing over his shoulder. Parker keeps her eyes focused past him, on the door. Then, he and Sophie watch her like they're hypnotized. Parker realizes then that they don't have a scratch on them. The job went wrong so fast and they came out unscathed.

Her brain is starting to work again. She's alive. It doesn't make sense. She was _there_. It's her fault Hardison fell, her fault Eliot was distracted enough to leave an armed man behind him. The men she loves are _dead_ and it doesn't make any sense.

Parker doesn't want to die, even now. She wants Eliot and Hardison to be alive too.

However long she waits, they won't come through that door.

“How are you feeling?” Sophie asks. “Are you dizzy?”

Parker shakes her head.

“Do you want a doctor?” Sophie asks. Sometimes she acts out what people are supposed to say, to show Parker the expectations.

Parker shakes her head again. She can feel tears building behind her eyes.

“Parker,” Nate says.

She can't. Can't look at him, can't talk, can't listen to him tell her she'll get through this, that they'll all get through this. Her shoulder still hurts, even with the pills and bandage.

“Let's get you lying down,” Sophie says, gently.

Parker breathes in sharply. Their bedroom. Not like their apartment at home, not covered in all of their things but. Last night, the three of them curled up together. The bed's too big for just her.

She brings her knees up to her chest, setting her feet on the edge of the chair cushion.

Nate pulls Sophie into the kitchen. They start whispering. Parker doesn't listen. She's remembering something from thinking about their bedroom.

Every safe house, every place they might stay in for longer than a night or two, Parker stashes supplies. Cash, passports, burner phones, toothpaste, etc. The last couple of years, she's hidden something else too. In this house, it's... on the top shelf of the coat closet by the door. She can picture it in her mind: a small, metal box.

Parker slides slowly out of the chair, wincing. She waits on the floor with part of the blanket until she hears a cupboard door squeak open. There's only a half wall between the kitchen and the living room but it will be good enough to cover her. She dashes for the closet. The box is in her hands and the next second, she's out the door.

She runs flat out down the driveway. They picked this place for the huge privacy hedges and they shield her now. She doesn't look at the van.

Parker boosts a car in the next street over. It's amateurish and sloppy to be that close to the safe house but now she's moving, the dizziness is worse. She drives one-handed, scrolling the GPS map with the other. Her destination is just outside of town.

Once the car is parked, she stumbles out. It's still afternoon, the sun peeking between clouds. Sterling said midnight was best but Parker can't wait that long.

She buries the box in the middle of the crossroads.

\-----

The demon appears within a few minutes. He's white, medium-build, and wearing a suit. He raises an eyebrow at Parker as he looks her over. “Well, it looks like you've been through the wringer.”

Parker clears her throat. “I want to make a deal,” she says, her voice a little hoarse.

“I suspected as much when you summoned me here,” the demon says. “My name is Barthamus. Feel free to call me Bart.”

Parker sways on her feet. “I want to bring my partners back to life,” she says.

“ _Two_ resurrections? That seems a little greedy, doesn't it? I can do one, in exchange for your soul.”

It would tear her in half to choose. She refuses to do it. Parker shakes her head. “I need both.” Moving her head makes the world rock even more violently.

Bart sighs. “I can't negotiate with you staggering around drunkenly like that.” He steps forward quickly. “Hold still.”

Parker flinches back. Bart grabs her hurt shoulder anyway. He's strong.

“This will sting a little,” Bart says.

Agony blossoms in Parker's shoulder, worse than when she was shot originally. She cries out. Bart lets go of her and she crumples to her knees.

The pain stops as suddenly as it began. Parker lifts her head. The dizziness from blood loss is gone, as is the residual pain in her shoulder. She moves it cautiously. It feels normal.

“There,” Bart says, “That's much better. Now, where were we?”

Parker starts to stand up. Bart pushes her down again. “No, stay there. I _am_ a king after all.”

He is? Parker sits back on her heels. “I need both,” she repeats.

“Then I need your soul and your service,” Bart says.

“What does that mean?”

“While you're alive, you'll be my thief and do whatever I want you to do. When you die, your soul goes to Hell forever,” Bart says, calmly. “Do we have a deal?”

Her freedom for their lives is no contest. “Show me the contract,” Parker says.

Bart frowns a little. “A verbal agreement is perfectly binding,” he says.

Parker just looks at him. She doesn't know much about demons but she knows you shouldn't trust them.

“Very well,” Bart says. He snaps his fingers. A roll of vellum appears in his hand. He unrolls it and points at a line at the bottom. “Sign here.” He hands her a pen.

Parker takes the contract. She settles down cross-legged on the dirt road to read it.

The main part of the contract is simple enough. It's the sub-clauses that are complicated. Parker crosses out the one about no liability for the demon if the people brought back to life die accidentally. She adds Hardison and Eliot's names carefully. The guaranteed length of their lives is set too low so Parker changes it to fifty years from resurrection. As for her service, Parker crosses out part of it so sexual activity is no longer on the table.

Bart snorts. “Don't flatter yourself.”

Parker ignores that. She finishes reading the contract and gives it to Bart so he can check the changes. He presses his finger to it and a complicated sigil appears. He hands it back to her. The vellum is strangely warm. Parker signs it.

“Not so fast,” Bart says. “Sign your real name.”

Parker looks at the contract. She's never signed her real name before. She signs 'Parker' underneath the 'Alice White' already there.

Bart snaps his fingers again and the contract disappears. “I think I like Alice better,” he says.

Parker stands up. She's stiff from sitting on the ground. How long has this taken? The sun has gone down.

Bart checks an expensive watch. It wasn't on his wrist earlier. “You have one hour to check that I have fulfilled my end of the bargain. Then, we begin.” He disappears.

Parker shivers. She's been numb since she left the safe house. Now, it feels like she's waking up.

The drive back takes almost all of her hour. Parker screeches to a halt outside the safe house with only minutes left. She runs up the driveway, her heart in her throat.

The back of the van is open. Lights shine from the safe house windows. As she gets closer, she can hear raised voices.

Parker bursts in through the door and straight into Hardison. She throws her arms around him. He almost overbalances. “What the—Parker!” he yelps.

“I'm sorry,” she gasps.

Hardison hugs her. “It's okay, babe, it's okay.”

“Parker!” Eliot's there. She hugs him next. Hardison stays close. She can feel their warmth. They're alive, they're okay. Something tightly clenched inside of her loosens.

“Hey,” Eliot says, softly. Parker can feel his worry as tension in his body.

Parker pulls back from hugging just Eliot to try to hug both of them. They cooperate by putting her in the middle and closing around her. Hardison doesn't like being in the middle for this kind of hug but Eliot loves it. Most of the time, Parker only likes it for a little while. Now, she wants to stop time and keep this forever.

“I love you,” she whispers. The tears are threatening to come back.

“Parker, what happened?” Nate asks from outside their circle.

Hardison and Eliot pull back. Parker feels the loss of their touch like a cold wind, like the beginning of panic. She doesn't have time.

“Kiss me,” she says to her partners. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Nate raise his eyebrows. They keep romance to a minimum around Nate and Sophie most of the time.

Eliot and Hardison kiss Parker at the same time. They've been practising the three-person-kiss because it's fun.

It doesn't last long enough. Parker opens her eyes to Sophie standing with Nate, looking worried. “Your shoulder,” she says.

Parker lost the bandage at some point, probably in the car. Hardison gently touches the place where she was shot. It feels good. She needs more time. “You healed too? This is crazy.”

“Where did you go?” Eliot asks.

Nate winces and rubs his forehead. Parker doesn't know anything is wrong until Sophie cries out and clutches her head. Then Hardison does the same. Eliot groans. Nate stumbles to the wall and falls.

Parker whirls around. She sees a figure silhouetted in the window. Bart steps forward, taps the glass, and beckons. Terror grips her. Time's up.

“Don't!” she cries, lunging for the door.

Eliot grabs her arm. He's squinting through the pain, bent over. “Parker, what...” he gasps.

“I can't stay!” She slips out of his grip and out the door.

\------

As soon as she crosses the threshold, Parker is somewhere else. A factory, from the machines and industrial metal crossbeams in the ceiling. Bart is sitting on a metal folding chair in front of her. He stands up. “When I say an hour, I _mean_ an hour, Alice,” he says, dangerously calm.

“You didn't have to hurt them!” Parker yells. Her hands clench into fists. She's ready to fight him.

He laughs. “No, but it was fun.” He raises a finger at her. “Don't contact them again, unless you want the same thing to happen.”

His words hit her like a slap. “What?”

“I've heard about you, Alice. You do your best work alone. I won't have you distracted. Remember, your deal only protects two of them from death, not anything else. And there's nothing in it about the older ones.” Bart smiles. “Even if you read the fine print, deals _always_ favour the demon. Didn't anyone tell you that?”

The contract didn't say Parker couldn't go back to her family between jobs. It just implied it, talking about 'vacations'. That Bart could give her a vacation but also control who she sees during it is within the scope of the contract.

“It isn't personal,” Bart says.

It _feels_ personal. Parker crosses her arms over her chest. The factory is cold. Or maybe it's the numbing dread creeping into her bones. To be alone again.

“Not chatty, are you? That's for the best, I suppose. Now, let's see if the rumours are true about you.”

If she knew she couldn't go back, Parker would've hugged Nate and Sophie too.

This time, she doesn't blink but the factory disappears anyway, replaced by a much smaller room. It's all metal: the walls, floor, ceiling. Parker can see a handle in the far wall with a combination lock beside it. They're in a vault. Her heart rate picks up automatically.

“Well?” Bart asks. He gestures at the safe across the room from them, setting off the motion detectors.

Parker flinches as the alarm starts blaring. Bart startles too, though he stands up straight again at once, like he's trying to pretend he didn't.

“Turn it off!” Parker yells.

“Open it!” Bart yells back.

What's the point of having magic if you can't even turn an alarm off? Parker covers her ears with her hands and crosses over to the safe. It's a Hamilton SK450: expensive but pretty easy. She presses her ear next to the mechanism and turns the dial. It only takes her as long as it does because she can _barely_ hear what she's doing and has to go mostly by feel.

Parker pulls the safe door open. She only gets a quick glimpse inside before it disappears too. Instead, she's plunged into silence and face-to-face with a bad reproduction of _Girl with a Pearl Earring_ in the ugliest wooden frame she's ever seen.

“ _Behind_ the painting,” Bart says. “Don't keep me waiting, Alice.”

Parker lifts the painting delicately off the wall. No alarm, so she's able to work on the revealed Glenn-Rieder in peace. Again, they leave without taking anything.

They go through five more safes in five more locations before Bart is satisfied. Teleporting is _the_ most boring way to break in somewhere. None of the safes are much of a challenge either. Parker has no tools at all, not even a stethoscope, so it's just as well. But she's bored enough by the end that she's starting to feel cold again.

Bart lands them on a cracked sidewalk under a flickering streetlight. “Good work,” he says, smiling.

She's just a tool to him, a safe-cracking device. Hardy, the robot Hardison made for her, would suit his purposes just as well as Parker does. At least it's familiar.

“I'll pick you up when I need you again,” Bart says, and vanishes.

\-----

Parker goes through the motions. She finds food, toiletries, and a shirt to wear. She doesn't sleep the rest of that first night. In the morning, she breaks into an abandoned apartment above a restaurant. She doesn't think too hard about why she wants that one.

Parker sleeps on the only intact piece of furniture there: an old, cracked, faux-leather couch. No electricity is fine but no water is annoying. She eats sugary cereal pretty exclusively. She spends most of the day asleep and most of the night on rooftops. It's almost easy to stop feeling much of anything.

She doesn't have internet, she doesn't buy a phone. She doesn't even find a new ID. She's a ghost.

One morning, she slips in her window to find the heart of her old life waiting for her. Hardison and Eliot are sitting in her living room, leaning on each other like they're exhausted. They both look up as her shadow falls on them.

“You found me,” Parker breathes, and it all comes back, everything she tried to push away.

“Of course we did, been looking since you left,” Hardison says. He's worried, even hurt maybe. Her chest squeezes painfully.

“Why are you living like this?” Eliot asks, an edge of anger in his voice.

“You found _me_ ,” Parker repeats. “I didn't contact _you_.” A loophole. She smiles.

Eliot's gaze sharpens and he sits straighter on the couch. Hardison asks, “Why couldn't you contact us?”

“He said he'd hurt you if I did,” Parker explains.

“Who?” Eliot growls.

“Bart, the demon I made a deal with.”

“His name is _Bart_?” Hardison asks.

“What kind of deal?” Eliot asks.

Parker doesn't want to talk about it. It won't change anything. She sits down on the couch, squeezing in between them. Hardison and Eliot both shift over to make room for her. She feels her bunched muscles relax from being so close to them again.

Eliot asks, quieter than before, “Darlin', what's going on?”

Parker leans her head on his shoulder and gathers the words. “You were dead. Both of you were dead and it was my fault.”

“Babe, it wasn't _—_ ” Hardison starts to say but Parker cuts him off.

“So I fixed it. I summoned a demon and he brought you back to life.” She shivers a little, in spite of their warmth.

Nobody speaks for a moment, then Hardison breaks the silence. “None of this makes sense anyway, so sure. Demons are real now,” he says, gently putting his arm around her. “We can talk about it more later.”

Parker closes her eyes and tries to hold on to this feeling of safety. She knows it won't last.

“We'll get you out of this,” Eliot says.

Her eyes fly open. “No,” Parker says, sitting up. “I can't break the deal.” She isn't sure if they'll die if she does or if she'll just go to Hell early.

“Is it breaking the deal for you to go to a hotel with us? Sleep in a real bed?” Hardison asks.

It's a real risk. Parker wants it too much. She wants every second with them she can get. Demons respect loopholes. “I'll come with you,” she says.

They hold hands all the way to the rental van.

\-----

Parker didn't bother bringing anything when they left so Eliot and Hardison argue about whether to go shopping before the hotel.

“I'll check but come on, baby, it's barely dawn. Nothing's open now that wasn't open all night,” Hardison says.

“A bunch of deliveries to the hotel needs a reason and we're already conspicuous checking in this time of day,” Eliot argues.

Hardison waves his phone. “I'm just saying: right now, our local options are three sketchy convenience stores and Value!More.”

It's comforting to sit on the middle seat and listen to them bicker. It's kind of like they're performing for Parker, reminding her how their life used to be. She's out of the habit of talking so she just lets it wash over her.

“Oh, I brought this for you,” Hardison says, as they pull up to the hotel. He hands Parker a phone. She turns it on. The screen lights up into a familiar photo: last year's Christmas tree. It's _her_ phone.

She looks up at Hardison. He smiles. “In case you want to make it easier for us to find you,” he says.

“I didn't want to leave,” Parker says. Her hand clenches around her phone.

“We know,” Hardison says.

Both Hardison and Eliot stay close to Parker while they walk across the parking lot. So close the three of them are almost tripping over each other. She grins and shades her eyes against the sun. It's going to be a beautiful day.

Hardison arranged everything on their way here so they just pick up key cards and head to the elevator. Eliot's already pushed the button for the penthouse when Parker sees Bart. He's watching them from across the lobby, arms folded.

Parker hits the close door button and steps out of the elevator. She hears Hardison start to call out her name but the sound is cut off in the middle.

Bart smiles as she joins him. “Much smoother than last time. Don't you remember what I said about contacting your former team?” His voice is dangerous.

“They found me,” Parker says. She stares right into his eyes. They change to all black. Parker doesn't blink, though every muscle in her body tightens in surprise.

“Fair enough,” the demon says. His eyes flick back to human. He jerks his head. “Let's go.”

This time, they don't teleport. Bart has a cab waiting at the curb.

“The factory,” he says to the driver, after they both get in the back seat. The driver nods. He doesn't turn the meter on as they pull away from the hotel.

Parker's phone is a reassuring weight in her pocket. She's still connected to Eliot and Hardison, even as she's driven further away.

“You'll need a new outfit,” Bart says, out of nowhere.

When Parker looks up, he's examining her critically. “Why?” she asks. They can teleport into vaults just as easily with the clothes she has on.

“I have a meeting later today with two people who will join our current enterprise. We all need to look the part,” Bart says.

He's putting together a crew. Anger ignites like a wildfire inside of her. Why couldn't he just hire Leverage to do this job, whatever it is, instead of taking Parker away from her family? Her fingers clench around her knees.

Bart laughs. “You're so serious, Alice. Lighten up.”

Parker takes a deep breath. Bart's a demon so they're probably going to do something bad. Everyone she loves is better off far away.

\-----

It's going to be a long day. Bart takes forever to decide what he wants Parker to wear. He refuses to talk about the job so she can't even have an informed opinion about the clothes, except that all of them are stupid and not black.

Then Bart goes to his very important meeting, leaving Parker with Grab, the cab driver. He's also a demon.

“So, what's your story?” Grab asks. Even Parker can tell he's just bored.

“Thief,” she says. “You?”

“Demon,” he says, his eyes going all black.

Parker performs the 'more information' gesture Sophie uses on Nate all the time. “Your job on the crew?” she asks, when he doesn't get it.

He laughs. “Crew? We aren't going _sailing_.”

That's when Parker gives up on him. She kicks off the stupid ballet flat shoes and climbs up one of the support braces to the still machinery above, ignoring Grab's startled squawk. She fits herself into a snug corner near the roof.

“Alice!” Grab calls. “Come down!”

She pulls out her phone. Eliot texted her two hours ago: _Please check in if you can_.

It's so carefully phrased she has to blink back sudden tears. Normally, he'd be texting her something like _Dammit Parker where are you_ or _Don't disappear like that!_ Nothing is normal about all of this.

 _ok had to go sorry,_ Parker texts to Eliot and Hardison.

Immediately, Hardison texts her back three messages in a row: _No worries_

_As long as you ARE okay_

_Can we come get you?_

Parker closes her eyes for a second. _no_ , she texts.

 _You still in town?_ Eliot asks.

Parker replies, _nearby factory south of town dont come_.

 _Be careful_ , Hardison texts.

 _Be safe_ , Eliot texts only a second later.

That makes Parker laugh a little. _new job no details outside help_ , she tells them. She hesitates over the next text but it needs to be said: _miss you already ilu_

 _Love you too_ , Eliot texts.

 _Love you three_ , Hardison texts.

Parker leans back into her corner and tries to lock down her heart again. She has to be strong. She's on her own here.

“Alice!” Bart calls.

Parker hurriedly wipes her eyes. She tucks her phone back into her pocket and quickly climbs down.

Bart smiles at her so he can't be that annoyed. “Put your shoes back on. We're in business.”

\-----

Parker's first impression of Sam and Dean Winchester is that between the two of them, they are wearing enough layers for a whole camping trip. They're both tall, though Sam is a giant, and white, and wearing flannel shirts under their coats. Their overall look is definitely more casual lumberjack than elite criminal.

“Hold up. Is this a heist?” Dean asks.

Parker texts, _amateur hour_. Hardison is looking the Winchesters up for her. Parker's going to need all the outside intel she can get.

 _These guys are bad news_ , Eliot texts back.

 _Baby, you are right about that_ , Hardison texts. _They're both all over the place._

_Murder charges, bank robberies, prison breaks_

_But then credit card fraud and grave desecration_

_SO much grave desecration, why_

_They've been dead at least twice for the FBI_

_Something about attempting to assassinate the president that I'm having to go way too deep to find_

“...the only thing that can open it is the blood of a man who's been to Hell and back. Tell me, Dean, do you know any men like that?” Bart asks.

Parker looks up from her phone. If there's a way to come back from Hell, she definitely needs to know.

Dean rolls up his sleeve and show Bart his wrist. “Well, here. Why don't you just take it? Then you can give us the rest of the spell.”

He must really want that spell. Parker listens carefully to the rest of the conversation. The spell is to find someone. Bart calls him 'your boy' which could mean anything.

The Winchesters go upstairs to talk about whether they're in or not. Bart says to Grab, “On the home stretch now.”

Grab nods. “You got this, boss.”

“Alice? Your thoughts?” Bart asks.

Parker shrugs. Why does he care about what she thinks now? It isn't much of a plan.

“You don't even know who they are, do you?” Grab asks, condescendingly.

“Alice is new to our world. She'll learn.” Bart says.

From the criminal charges, they sound like hitters. Parker knows more hitters now, after five years of Leverage. She usually just keeps track of big-name thieves. There's no point in learning all the small fry unless you come up against them.

“You were staring at Dean pretty intensely,” Grab says to Parker. “He's attractive, isn't he?”

Why does that matter? Parker doesn't respond.

Bart chuckles. “Don't be fooled. He's a stone-cold killer,” he says, like he's savouring the words. It's creepy.

The Winchesters come back. Sam suggests distracting Luther Shrike while they rob him. There's a hundred ways to do that without one of them going into his fortresslike mansion and having a nice long chat with him, but sure. Whatever. Parker wants this job to be over before it's even begun.

\-----

They don't have comms. And they've split up. Sam is totally cut off from Parker and Dean right now, let alone Bart who isn't even on the grounds of Shrike's estate. It's ridiculous, how little Bart has been directing them. He's acting like the client instead of the mastermind.

Parker yawns. She hasn't slept in the last 24 hours.

“Up past your bedtime?” Dean asks, glancing over from his demon summoning spell preparations.

Parker pulls a bottle of orange soda out of her bag and takes a big swig. It tastes like Hardison during a job.

“You're weird,” Dean says, sitting on his heels to look up at her. “You just carry soda around with you?”

She shrugs. While they were waiting back at the factory, Bart offered to get Parker anything she needed so she took full advantage and asked for enough essential and non-essential things to fill a messenger bag.

“If you're going to take the trouble, it should at least be for something good, like beer,” Dean continues. “God, I could use a beer right about now.”

Parker can't resist. She takes the bottle of beer from the Leverage brewpub out of her bag and tosses it to Dean.

His eyes widen and he barely catches it. “What the hell?” He squints at the label. “Thief Juice? Who'd name their beer something like that?”

“I would,” Parker says.

“Yeah, of course _you_ would, you're a thief.” Dean stares at the beer, then opens it against the edge of the spell container. He takes an experimental sip. “Huh, not bad.”

Parker smiles. She hides it by drinking more soda.

“So, how'd you get pulled into this?” Dean asks.

Parker doesn't bother figuring out how to explain. She's sure he doesn't care about the answer anyway.

“Working for demons isn't a great way to live a long and healthy life,” Dean says, like he's in any position to give Parker advice.

She points at the spell with her soda bottle. “Is it almost done?”

Dean sighs and sets the ingredients on fire.

Grab appears. “Let's get this party started,” he says, clapping his hands together. He chants quickly in Latin.

Dean barely has a chance to stand up before his body starts moving in quick jerks. “What the hell!” he exclaims.

Grab grins. “Lead on to the vault!”

Dean's arm pulls him around in a semi-circle. “You cast a spell on my blood?” Dean asks, incredulous.

“And you said he was just a pretty face,” Grab says to Parker. Parker rolls her eyes.

They follow Dean's slow, lurching, complaining progress across the lawn. It is the opposite of stealthy. Parker hopes Sam's grift in the house is enough to distract Shrike because all he'd have to do to catch them right now is open a window.

Finally, they arrive at an old-fashioned set of cellar doors. Dean holds himself back while Parker throws them open to reveal steps down into the earth. Grab makes a sweeping gesture with his arms. “Please, feel free.”

“Take the damn spell off,” Dean snaps, his feet marching in place.

“It'll stop once you open the vault. I mean, probably. Obviously, I didn't get much of a chance to test it out ahead of time,” Grab says, grinning.

“I will kill you,” Dean growls, sounding a little like Eliot. Parker wishes he was here.

She and Dean descend into the cellar without Grab. Dean finds the light switch. It's a small room, with a weird pig head thing in the middle of one wall. It looks mean.

“Seriously?” Dean asks his arm, as it points right at the pig head. “How is that a lock?”

Parker warily moves closer to inspect it. The wall is a door. She can see the faint outline now. The pig's mouth is open a little. “Put your hand in there,” she says.

“So it can _bite_ me? No way,” Dean says.

Parker glares at him. “This is why you're here.”

Dean's hand jerks toward the pig head, like the spell agrees with Parker. Dean groans. “There could be anything in there! Spiders, spinny blades, snakes, spiders.”

They're in a cellar. Of course there are spiders. Parker crosses her arms.

“Okay, okay,” Dean mutters and inches over to the pig head. He gingerly pushes his hand into the pig's mouth. Nothing happens.

“Oh, maybe—aah!” Dean starts to say and then yelps. He tries to pull his hand out but it's stuck. Parker can hear a very faint whirring from the mechanism.

“It got me!” Dean says. The door opens, releasing his hand. He inspects his fingertip, where there is a tiny drop of blood.

What a production. Parker rolls her eyes. She steps forward through the door.

She hears the click too late. Dean grabs Parker's shoulders and pulls her back, in time to feel something whoosh past her face. They both stare at the dart embedded in the wall.

Parker shrugs Dean's hands off, her heart pounding. “What the hell was that?” she snaps, retreating further into the cellar room. She's angry with herself. She's too used to Hardison turning off alarms for her, to Eliot eliminating threats. Her instincts are all wrong for working alone now.

“The curveball Bart was talking about. _That's_ why I'm here,” Dean says. “Did you know about this?”

“No, of course not.” Parker doesn't even know if Bart knew about the traps. Not that it matters since they can't ask him.

Dean keeps staring into the room. “Well, I can see the safe anyway. The question is how do we get to it with all this dollar store Indiana Jones crap?”

A movement on the stairs catches Parker's eye. Luther Shrike is rushing down them. “Dean!” she calls.

Both men turn toward her. Parker runs at Shrike, catching him off-guard, and kicks him in the knee. Dean's right behind her so Parker climbs the stairs. They're made, they have to regroup.

In the grass outside, she almost steps on Grab's body. He's sprawled out, eyes open, not breathing. There's nothing she can do for him.

Parker runs.

\-----

She makes it to the front gate. Her foot is on the first crossbar, ready to climb, when Bart says, “Where do you think you're going, Alice?”

He's standing inches from her. Parker involuntarily hops down and steps back. “Everything went sideways,” she pants. “Grab's dead, maybe Sam too, I don't know.”

“And?” Bart asks.

Parker stares at him. “And what? It's your plan,” she says. Maybe he has a secret contingency. Nate loves those.

“My plan doesn't involve _you_ leaving without my property. Now, get back in there,” Bart says.

“What?” This is like a bad dream.

“Alice, don't make me threaten you. It's tedious.” Bart's face looks like it's set in stone.

“Shrike caught us breaking in. What do you want me to do?” Parker asks.

“Your job,” Bart answers.

Parker stops herself from saying if this was _her_ job, she would've escaped by now. No, she never would've been here in the first place because the plan was too weak.

“Go on,” Bart says, actually shooing her with his fingers.

Parker turns away. She thinks about climbing the wall anyway, out of sight somewhere. But Bart can find her anywhere. Their deal will be broken and Eliot and Hardison will be dead.

She retraces her steps to the cellar vault.

\-----

Shrike is tied to one of the support pillars, with a bunch of darts sticking out of him and duct tape over his mouth. By the fierceness of his glare, he's still alive. Parker gives him a wide berth and peeks into the open vault room. Sam is standing in there with Dean, looking at the safe, their backs to her. It's a Fitzmartin's, old enough to have a crank handle. Bulky but not difficult.

“Can you open it?” Dean asks Sam.

Sam scoffs. “Dean, I bet no one's seen a safe like that in over a hundred years.”

“I have,” Parker says. They turn to her. Sam has a big bruise on the side of his head, but otherwise, they don't look hurt.

“Oh, thank you for joining us,” Dean says, sarcastically.

Parker is in no mood. “You want it open or what?”

Sam squints at her. He might have a concussion. “You made a demon deal,” he says, like he's just now figuring it out. “If Bart had just hired you, there's no way you would've come back.”

“No way I would've taken this job in the first place,” Parker corrects him. “Bad recon, no comms, amateurs, no real exit plan.”

“Are you calling _us_ amateurs?” Dean asks, incredulously. “Lady, we have been hunting since before you were—”

Sam cuts him off. “We can help you,” he says. He sounds sincere.

“How?” Parker asks.

“Break your deal, save your soul,” Sam says.

“No.” Parker fishes a stethoscope out of her bag. Fitzmartin's have thick, heavy walls. “Move.”

They move. Parker crouches over the dial, listening to it click. Dean says something but she shushes him. Sitting in a damp cellar hasn't done the mechanism any favours. There. Parker straightens up and turns the crank. The safe opens.

She turns to see the Winchesters staring at her like she's a wizard. “Let's go!” Parker snaps.

\------

Shrike is gone when they exit the vault room. Parker guides the panting men back to their car. The mahogany trunk they came for goes in the backseat with Parker and they're off in a squeal of tires.

Bart isn't by the front gate anymore. The sun is starting to rise. Parker can feel the crushing weight of fatigue on her shoulders. Adrenaline is still humming through her blood.

The car skids to a halt, making Parker grip the top of the front seat to keep from going over it. A red truck faces them on the road. “Does this guy ever stop?” Dean asks.

He reverses, then swerves sideways while Sam shoots out the truck's tires. Instead of making their escape, Dean stops the car. Parker wants to protest but Sam still has the gun out so she follows them out onto the road.

Shrike joins them. He's angry, even with Sam waving the gun in his face. Something in his eyes is familiar.

When he tells them about how his son got sick, Parker realizes who Shrike reminds her of. She's glad Sterling never told Nate about demon deals.

“When the hounds came to drag me to Hell, I negotiated a new deal,” Shrike says.

“How?” Parker and Sam ask at the same time.

Shrike grins. “Leverage. Look in the box.”

Parker expects to see incriminating evidence, photographs or files or _something_. Not bones.

“If you burn them, Bart will die,” Shrike says. He looks right at Parker. “All of the benefits and none of the consequences, if you have a deal with him.”

Sam and Dean exchange glances. Dean has his lighter in his hand when Shrike's head goes flying. His body slumps. Bart is standing behind him, holding a machete.

“Trust me, he had it coming,” Bart says, tossing the weapon aside. He pats his jacket. “I've got the rest of the spell. This doesn't have to get messy.”

“Tell that to him,” Dean says, jerking his head toward Shrike's body.

“Alice, come here,” Bart says. There's blood on his face, splattered across his suit jacket, smeared on the hand he's holding out to her. Parker takes an involuntary step backward.

“Don't,” Sam says. “We were on the wrong side of this.”

Bart laughs. “A little late to play the hero.”

“Give us the spell or we'll toast you right here,” Dean says, raising his lighter.

With a flourish, Bart pulls a piece of parchment out of his jacket. “But I want all of my property back. That includes the thief.”

“She doesn't belong to you,” Dean says.

“I have a contract that says otherwise. Soul _and_ service _._ Bring me the box, Alice,” Bart commands.

There's no choice. Parker steps closer to the box. Something small and cold is pressed into her hand as she passes Dean. The lighter.

Quick as she can, Parker creates a flame and drops it into the box. Bart's eyes widen. He screams. Fire flares up from his feet and consumes his whole body. He disappears before their eyes.

“The spell!” Sam yells. He grabs the burning parchment and tries to put it out. But it's too late. The spell is gone.

“Dammit!” Dean shouts.

Parker fumbles her phone out of her pocket. “Please, please, please,” she hears herself muttering as her shaking fingers open the contacts.

Hardison picks up after one ring. “Parker?!”

“Are you okay? Is Eliot okay?” she asks, her voice tight, her heart in her throat.

“We're fine, we're fine, baby, what's going on?” Hardison asks.

Parker breathes out in relief and drops to her knees on the road. “It worked.”

“What worked?” Eliot's voice, tinny like Hardison put her on speaker.

“Bart's dead. But you're both still alive.” She smiles as she says it. “Where are you?”

“We're still at that hotel, decided it made more sense to stay,” Hardison says.

“What happened?” Eliot asks.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dean asks. “Alice?”

Parker looks up at him. “Stay there, I'm on my way,” she says to Hardison and Eliot. She lowers the phone. “Thanks,” she says to Dean.

He offers her a hand up. “No problem.”

Parker stands up on her own. They both look over at Sam who's trying to piece the ashes of the parchment back together, next to Shrike's headless corpse.

“That could've gone better,” Dean says, sighing.

“Give me a ride back to town and we'll help you find who you're looking for,” Parker says.

Dean's eyebrows go up. “What makes you think you can help?”

Parker grins. “One of my boyfriends is _really_ good at finding people.”

\-----

Eliot and Hardison are waiting for them outside the hotel. Parker barely waits for the car to stop before she leaps out. She rushes into their open arms, hugging both of them tightly. She closes her eyes to hold on to the moment. They're safe, they're alive. Everything is going to be okay.

“Are you okay?” Eliot asks softly into her hair.

“Now I am,” Parker says.

“What happened?” Hardison asks.

Parker pulls back out of the hug so she can meet Hardison's eyes. “I set him on fire.”

Hardison doesn't flinch but he does swallow visibly. Eliot touches Parker's shoulder gently. There's a cough from behind her and Parker turns around.

“It was self-defence,” Sam says. He and Dean look tense.

They're suddenly giving Parker a cop vibe. She doesn't like it. “Come inside and we'll talk,” she says.

Dean shakes his head. “Thanks anyway, but we don't need your help.”

“You're looking for someone, right?” Hardison asks. Parker texted him and Eliot on the way here. “Jimmy Novak?”

Both of the Winchesters take half a step forward. Beside her, Parker can feel Eliot tense. “How do you know that name?” Dean asks.

Hardison laughs, unintimidated. “Really? He's part of your crew. None of y'all have what you'd call a _low_ profile.”

“We know where he is,” Sam says.

“Oh, so you know his car's impounded for abandonment? I tried tracking his phone but it's pinging all over,” Hardison says.

The Winchesters look at each other. Sam sighs and rubs his face. “Thanks but no, we aren't looking for... Jimmy. We're looking for Jack Kline.”

“And we've already been looking,” Dean says, his voice sharper. “We don't need you.”

“But you needed a spell from a demon?” Parker asks. She quotes Dean's own words back to him, dropping her voice a little. “'Working for demons isn't a great way to live a long and healthy life.'”

Sam snorts back a laugh. Dean glares at him.

“Can we not have this conversation in the parking lot?” Eliot asks pointedly. It isn't really a question.

“Fine,” Dean grumbles.

Sam smiles at Hardison and holds out his hand. “Hi, I'm Sam Winchester.”

Hardison smiles. Parker can see on his face that he's holding back saying 'I know.' He just shakes Sam's hand. “I'm Hardison. This is Eliot, and you know Parker.”

“Parker?” Dean asks. “I thought your name was Alice.”

Parker shrugs. “Lots of people think that.”

Eliot laughs a little. He leans closer to Parker. “You weren't kidding about them being amateurs,” he whispers in her ear, not quietly enough.

Dean sighs heavily but he and Sam follow them inside.

\-----

Both Winchesters seem overwhelmed by the penthouse suite. “What, are you guys rich or something?” Dean asks, staring around him.

“We're _very_ good at what we do,” Hardison says.

“What do you do?” Sam asks, touching the fringe on a lamp cautiously, like it might bite him.

“We provide leverage,” Parker says, happily. Nate usually gets to say that line.

“Like blackmail?” Sam asks.

“We help people who can't fight back,” Eliot says.

“So do we, and we aren't staying in penthouses,” Dean says. “Sammy, we are in the wrong profession.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hardison, do you want a photo of Jack?”

As Hardison and the Winchesters discuss searching options, Eliot steers Parker into the doorway of the next room.

“Are you sure you're okay?” he asks her, his eyes concerned.

Parker nods. Eliot gets it. He's had to kill people before too.

Eliot takes a deep breath. “Okay. We're gonna have to talk about this with all three of us but... I don't want you to make another deal.”

“I don't have to now,” Parker says, confused. Everything's fine now.

“Parker,” Eliot says. He brushes her fingertips with his. “If anything happens, I don't want you to do that again.”

Oh. She meets his eyes. He's serious. “I—” Parker starts but she has to clear her throat. “But, Eliot, I _can't_.” She can't lose them. Whatever it takes.

“Please,” he says.

Anger bubbles up, filling the sudden hollow in her chest. “Then you can't get shot like that! You can't do that to me!”

“I'm sorry,” Eliot says. His words hang between them. Parker can see between the lines, just this once, because it's Eliot. He can't tell her it won't happen again.

Her fists clench. “You have to _try_ ,” she insists. “You have to promise to try.”

“I promise,” Eliot says immediately. He holds out his arms. Parker falls into them. Eliot catches her. He always does. They hold on for a long time.

“Everything okay?” Hardison asks.

Parker lets go of Eliot and hugs him. “I won't drop you again,” she says into Hardison's chest, willing it to be true.

She can feel him inhale sharply. “Parker, you were _shot_ ,” Hardison says. “There's nothing you could've done but fall with me.” His voice is firm.

Parker pulls back so she can see his face. No blame in Hardison's eyes. She turns to Eliot and it's the same.

“It wasn't your fault,” Hardison says, and now she remembers him saying it before. But this time is different. This time, she kind of believes him.

Parker breathes out, feeling the muscles in her shoulders relax, like she just put down something heavy. “Okay,” she says.


End file.
